Such The Angels Go
by NovaB
Summary: A tragic accident brings the boys back together to help one of their own pick up the pieces and let him know that he doesn't have to go through it alone.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the main characters I use in this story.

'To fight aloud is very brave,

But gallanter, I know,

Who charge within the bosom,

The cavalry of woe.

Who win, and nations do not see,

Who fall, and none observe,

Whose dying eyes no country,

Regards with patriot love.

We trust, in plumed procession,

For such the angels go,

Rank after rank, with even feet,

And uniforms of snow.' - Emily Dickinson

Prologue

The small grocery store was having a fair amount of business in the early evening hour. Families stopped by to do their grocery shopping for the remainder of the week, and various men and women made quick pit stops to pick up something for dinner or an ingredient they were missing from that pasta dish they were making.

Such was the reason a particular woman was out shopping. She couldn't believe she had forgotten not one, but two ingredients to something she'd been making for decades. Spaghetti wasn't rocket science, and she hadn't yet considered herself old enough to be having memory lapses yet, so she could only deduct her forgetfulness to the excitement of the past week. Her son would be coming home soon for the summer, and she was practically giddy with the anticipation of his home coming. She missed him terribly, and it felt like ages since he'd last been home on a break.

Thinking of him got her off track, and by the time she came back to where she was, she had walked into the frozen foods section. Laughing to herself and rubbing the goosebumps on her arms, the pretty woman shook her head and backtracked towards the vegetable aisle.

She took her time in choosing the right onion before bagging it and tying the twist-tie to keep it shut. She had one more item to pick up, and she now berated herself for not checking for her herbs way before she started preparing dinner. She hadn't used the herbs in the rack on the kitchen wall in a while, and she had assumed everything was well stocked until the very last minute.

Once faced with the dozens of little glass bottles lining the shelves, she blew out a sigh. "Now I remember why my son did all the grocery shopping," she muttered to herself. She began scanning the little bottles resolutely: Paprika, Sage, Cinnamon, Basil, Cloves, Garlic, and Nutmeg.

"Oregano . . . where are you." Thyme, Ginger, Rosemary, Chives, Oregano! She snatched it off the shelf, turned on her heel, and headed for the checkout. She only had two items, so it didn't take very long before she was out the sliding doors again and to her car.

When she tried the door, however, it wouldn't budge. Frowning, she peered in. She didn't remember locking the door, and damn it, her keys were in there! Muttering an expletive, she checked all her doors and found every last one of them locked. She must have accidentally pressed the button on her way out.

Sighing in frustration, she looked around the half full parking lot, briefly at a loss for what to do since this had never happened before. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business, and she doubted they could have helped her anyway. Finally deciding she'd better go back inside and ask for help, she started the walk back to the store. Once inside, she looked around for individuals in the red shirts that were customary for people who worked there. A young woman in a red shirt near a cash register caught her eye, and she headed for her.

"Excuse me, miss?" she asked the girl, who turned to her, a startled look on her face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the woman half laughed. "I, um, seemed to have locked my keys in my car, and I was wondering if your manager or someone could help me, or if they had a phone and I could call someone . . .?"

The girl looked at her blankly for a moment. "Oh." Her brow furrowed, and then she gave her sort of a sheepish look. "Uh . . . I don't work here."

" . . . Oh." The older woman felt her face flush with embarrassment. "Oh, wow, I'm sorry, this is . . . awkward."

The other girl laughed and put a hand on her head. "It's all right, you didn't know. But, um, I know what you can do to get it open. Do you . . . I don't suppose you have a hanger on you, do you?" Her brows knitted again and she suppressed a smile as she took in the woman's rather small grocery bag. "Kind of a stupid question."

"Not at all. I suppose I could -"

Their conversation was interrupted when a larger man wearing a red shirt and a name tag came up. "Do you ladies need help finding something?"

"No, sir, I locked my keys in my car and this young lady was helping me figure out what to do."

The man's face lightened in understanding, and then he made a motion with his hand. "I believe we can help, too. Come on, we've got something here that'll open your car right up."

"Thank you," the woman told him gratefully. She looked at the younger girl again. "And thank you very much for trying. I'm sorry for mistaking you for someone else."

"It's okay," the girl waved it off. "I hope you get your car open. By the way," she paused and reached out towards the other woman. "I like this color. It goes good with your eyes."

The older woman looked down at it, and then smiled warmly. "Why thank you. It reminds me of my son. You have a good day."

"You, too," she returned before walking away and going about her business.

The woman's day was certainly brightening quickly. The manager was able to help her out, and before too long, her car was unlocked and she was inside it again. Placing her grocery bag on the passenger seat, she turned the ignition on and left the parking lot, humming a tune under her breath as she drove the short way home. She knew the way like the back of her hand, and found herself daydreaming as she drove.

She was going to cook a large dinner when her son came home from college next week. All of his favorites, and then he would tell her all about this past semester. She missed talking with him and just hearing his voice - when was the last time she called him? He had called her about a week ago, so it was probably time to call him. Would he need help moving out, or would his friends help him with that?

He'd already proven to be very efficient on his own and able to take care of himself, and even while the thought made her proud, it made her sad and nostalgic as well. Her mind drifted back to when he was younger; when he really needed her.

Now he was a young man and more on his own than he'd ever been.

But was that really true? Thinking back, he'd been fairly independent as a teenager, an abrupt change that had startled her at first. She assumed it was just the growing up process, the proverbial 'hatchling getting ready to leave the nest', but it had come on so quickly that it made her wonder what she'd missed. When had he grown up on her?

Blinking back the burning in her eyelids, she let her eyes clear and focus on the road ahead, the intersection –

And the semi truck running the red light and heading straight for her car.

Panic hit her and she screamed at the alarming closeness of the truck and slammed on her brakes to avoid collision. She didn't stop quick enough, and the truck slammed into the right back door of her car, jarring her forward to hit her head on the wheel. The semi dragged her car for a few terrifying yards, and all she could do was grip the wheel and scream in fear as the sound of grating metal under her filled her ears. A sharp pain in her chest fired its way down one of her arms as her body was jarred with the car and the truck that held it.

The semi driver slammed on his brakes, releasing the hold on the woman's car. She had been pressing her foot on the gas pedal in a pitiful attempt to free her car and, now suddenly freed, the car careened away from the truck before she knew what was happening.

Fighting control with her own car and the fear and pain still gripping her body, she struggled with the wheel. Her arm hurt, her chest was screaming at her, and she was gasping for breath. She couldn't gain control, and the scenery outside was spinning wildly like that on a merry-go-round. It abruptly stopped once her tires were coaxed into submission, but her little car kept going. She jerked the wheel far to the right to get out of oncoming traffic's way.

Her mind didn't register the telephone pole until it was too late.


	2. I Wasn't Prepared

A/N: Hello, and welcome to where the actual story starts. I really appreciate the reviews so far, and of course I would _continue_ to appreciate it if I got even more :) I know this is a depressing story; the death of a loved one is never easy. I wanted to see how the boys would cope with something like this. Another more personal reason for writing this story is that I just lost my grandmother last week. A lot of what they're feeling is what I've been feeling for awhile, so it's a little painful and surprisingly therapeutic to write this. This is really going to deal with that first awful week after someone has died. So, on with the chapter. The next one might take a little while since I'm going out of state this weekend, but it'll be there next week. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

The sun was in its last stages of setting, below the horizon yet leaving a residue of red, pinks and blues behind. The fading light was offset by the bright headlights of the many cars traveling along the roads of Tokyo, along with the lights from the city buildings and apartments that stretched up to meet the dying fire in the sky.

A car cut through the evening traffic effortlessly. The driver was at his wits end, but somehow, he managed to smoothly avoid any collisions with cars in the other lanes as he weaved around them to get ahead. He was only doing forty-five, but the traffic on this particular road was heavy, and it was either slow down at some point or run right into the back of that Pontiac in front of him.

Every time he had to slow down, though, his heart leapt in his throat. His mind was one track - he _had _to get there in time, he had to get there _now_. Dammit, why couldn't these people move faster? Why was it that everything and everyone seemed to slow down when you were in a hurry? He slammed on the brakes again and bared his teeth. What was _wrong_ with these people!

"Come on," he pleaded, and his eyes darted to the digital clock. The thought of not making it sent slick panic and horror up his spine, scurrying along up to his brain and then down to his heart. His hands were gripping the wheel so tightly the knuckles were white, and he breathed carefully and controlled through his nose to keep a measure of calm so he didn't wreck his car and end his own life before he got to the hospital.

When he finally saw the sign for University of Tokyo Hospital, his relief was so great tears pricked his eyes. Thank God. The entrance to the parking lot came up immediately on his right, and in a quick decision he jerked the wheel to the right and cut in front of two cars so he wouldn't miss the entrance. They blared their horns as he pulled up and into the parking lot, but at the moment he could care less.

He drove the car past the ER entrance of the hospital where an ambulance, red and blue lights still flashing, sat in front of the automatic doors as a patient was loaded out the back and brought in. He parked in the first available spot, not giving a second thought to the fact that it was reserved for some doctor and he would be fined if he parked there. He was out of the car a second later, and the tall young man ran to the entrance of the ER, the end of his button down shirt flapping behind him.

The air outside had been warm, slightly muggy, but the air inside the ER bordered on downright cold. Slightly disoriented by the sudden change in temperature, he stopped when he was just inside, briefly at a loss amongst the stretchers, medical personnel, and civilians either sick or relatives of the sick. The smell of antiseptic hung heavy on the air and made his stomach churn. He spotted the front desk and jogged quickly over to it.

The nurse behind the desk looked up as a winded, distraught young man came up and rested the heel of his hands on the edge of the desk. "Are you here to see someone?"

_No, I'm here because I get so much pleasure out of coming to ER_, he wanted to snarl sarcastically, but kept his inner thoughts to himself.

"My . . . my mother was brought in here, ah, yesterday aft- um, evening," he corrected himself. He gave his mother's name, and then paused briefly to recall the name of the doctor. "A Dr. Tuchiya called me -"

"Ah, yes," the nurse interrupted when she realized what patient this concerned. Suddenly sympathetic, the woman eyed the young man for a moment before checking her most recent files. "Room 137. It's in the hallway behind this desk, down a ways to your left."

He barely managed to get out a 'thanks' before he took off for that hallway. He speed walked down the wide, tiled walkway, past doctors, nurses, and hospital beds containing patients of all ages, keeping an eye on the numbers to the sides of the doors as he went. When he finally reached number one hundred and thirty-seven, he came a few inches within running into the startled doctor that just opened the door to the room and stepped out.

"Dr. Tuchiya, my -"

"Your mother," he finished gently. The older man's dark eyes pinned his own lighter ones, and he hesitated for a brief second.

He didn't have to say it. He caught a brief glimpse of the inside of the room. The thin, frail form in the bed, the two nurses inside. One of them looked up and caught his gaze with dark, regretful eyes. A constant, small sound filled the background.

The doctor's eyes were filled with sadness.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "We simply couldn't revive her after the last attack. I am truly sorry."

He felt his knees want to buckle, and he moved to lean against the wall to keep his balance. There was a roaring in his ears, so loud that he couldn't hear anything else.

It had been quick. That was what the doctor had told him. Quick, and after the first one, she didn't feel much pain.

It didn't make him feel any better.

He knew they'd meant it to be comforting. As if it would be easier to swallow knowing that she hadn't felt much pain in the end.

He'd made it to the hospital, but he'd been too late. In the end, he was much too late. It hurt almost as much as her death itself. The doctor tried to assure him that even if he had arrived yesterday, it wouldn't have mattered - the heart attack and the damage from the accident had left her unconscious, almost in a coma-like state. He wouldn't have been able to talk to her even if he wanted to. Once the other two heart attacks hit, one at midnight and another an hour before he arrived, she couldn't hold on any longer.

He sat, leaned over in a hard chair in the ER, completely unaware of the bustle and noises going on around him. A woman with her baby sat a few seats away, nearly hysterical because her baby had fallen and hit her head. She was arguing with a nurse about seeing a doctor_ now_, her baby needed attention _now_. Why did she have to wait?

An old man sat across from him, holding a hand to his own head, talking to himself loudly in a foreign language. A younger male leaned over to tell him to shut up, his friend next to him hunched over and clutching his leg. The smell of antiseptic still permeated the air, although it was slightly overridden by a heavy perfume coming from a large woman not too far away, fanning herself and asking every two minutes when she could see a doctor about these terrible stomach pains.

He didn't see or hear any of it. His vision was fixed on a spot on the floor, his hands lying useless in his lap. There was a constant, terrible pressure on his chest, and it was so _heavy._ He would have done anything to make that weight go away, but it seemed persistent on staying.

He hardly listened when Dr. Tuchiya explained everything that had happened. He hadn't really wanted to hear it. Knowing what happened would make it all the more real. He longed to hold onto that hazy feeling of unreality that had first struck him, as if he were walking in a dream or viewing this from someone else's perspective. This wasn't happening to _him,_ he was just watching it happen to someone else, like in a movie. But the more Dr. Tuchiya talked, the more real it became, and he wanted to hate the man for doing that. The more he spoke, the harder it was to keep a hold on that feeling of being unattached to everything.

Someone was pressing something into his hands, and it felt hot. Blinking, he looked up and at the Styrofoam cup holding a brown liquid that could only be coffee. A pale, slim hand held it, unadorned with anything but a golden band and a pretty engagement ring. He took it numbly, and then looked up further to put a face to the hand.

Shiny, long black hair fell past the shoulders of the white lab coat, and a sad, pale face looked down at his. Dr. Date kept her hand wrapped around one of his own. "Oh, honey, I am so sorry," she expressed sadly, and reached down to give him a hug which he couldn't quite return. She pulled back and smoothed back the hair from his forehead, and for a moment he just closed his eyes and let her do it.

He looks so lost and dazed, thought Mrs. Date as she eyed him sympathetically. The poor boy. She could only imagine how he must be feeling. Her own mother had died many years ago, but she could still recall the pain of it vividly. She'd been checking in on his mother from the minute she heard it was one of her sons' friend's mother, feeling it was her duty to see this through and wait for his arrival. Things took such a turn for the worse, and she felt just as helpless as he did about the outcome.

"Do you need anything, sweetheart?" she asked softly. "Would you like for me to call my son?"

For a moment, he looked as if he didn't hear her. Then, he gave an almost imperceptible nod. Before she could turn away to oblige, he reached out and put a hand on her arm. His eyes looked imploringly up into hers. "Is there . . . another phone I could use to ring someone else?"

Mrs. Date nodded, and he got up to follow her to a phone. She kept a hand on his back, and the cup of coffee he held sloshed forlornly in the cup. He didn't think he could bring himself to drink it, but the gesture wasn't lost on him. He was grateful for her presence. She had the same calming quality her son had, and he found the roaring in his ears wasn't as bad as it had been before.

She spoke with a nurse behind another desk, who lifted up a phone and placed it on the counter. Mrs. Date turned to him with, "I'm going to call him. When you've finished making your phone calls, why don't you sit back down and drink your coffee, all right? I want to see it all gone by the time I get back."

She was hoping to get some reaction out of him for the motherly rib, but all he did was set the cup down and nod, keeping his eyes trained on the phone as he picked up the receiver. He gave her a 'thank you' with a tone that told her he might not seem thankful, but he was trying. Sparing the lost young man one last sympathetic glance, Dr. Date walked down the hall towards her office.

Like second nature, he automatically dialed a number he'd dialed a hundred times before, and let it ring.

The window to the little room was wide open to compensate for the lack of cool air coming through the vents. A warm breeze filtered into the room, offset by the cool air being pushed out by the fan on the other side of the room. Notes and book pages fluttered against the breeze circulating the room, and an empty soda bottle was knocked over when a few papers rolled and hit it. Empty carryout boxes lay here and there, and a pile of laundry that had grown to momentous proportions was shoved in the corner of a closet.

Soft snoring was the only other noise in the small room. The lone bed with the dark blue sheets crumpled at the foot of it was empty, and the only inhabitant of the room was slumped over his desk, still sitting in a chair. A book was his pillow, and the glow of the computer screen washed over the male's short, scruffy hair and thick, muscle corded neck. The rest of the room was dark, save for the glow of the numbers on the clock that read just past ten. Quite early to have crashed studying, but whose to say he got any sleep the night before?

He wasn't sure what woke him up, but something did. Dark blue eyes slowly drifted open, and his brow furrowed when he tried to remember what he had been doing and what his cheek was lying on. When it came to him, he made a sound of disgust and pulled his cheek away from the page of the English book and tilted his neck this way and that to work out the kinks.

Looking around the darkened room, he stared at the numbers on the clock and made another snort of disgust. "Losing your edge, man. Falling asleep at ten, shame on you."

He glanced back down at the open book and then at the computer screen where his final term paper lay half finished. He felt a swell of pride. Almost done with this sucker, he thought. Made some pretty damn good progress tonight. Semester's nearly over, and then he can leave this hellhole for a long, well deserved vacation.

When the phone rang, he nearly jumped out of his seat, and then glared over at the phone for the unwelcome surprise. He reached over and picked it up.

"Yeah, what?" he asked somewhat irritably. If someone wanted to party, he wasn't in the mood - the night before had been enough, and he was too tired to get out of his comfortable clothes.

"Kento?" Came the weary voice on the other end.

He sat up straighter in his chair, automatically concerned with the tone of voice. "Hey, buddy! Haven't talked to you in a while. What's shakin'? You don't sound too great." Like you haven't slept in a week, he added silently.

"Um, I - I'm at the hospital. My -"

"Hospital! What the hell are you there for?"

"My mother. Kento, she - she was in an accident."

Fear hit his stomach and then worked its way up to his heart. He shot up out of his chair. "What kind of accident? Is she all right?"

"N-no." He hesitated, and the amount of pain expressed in his next words was an almost tangible, living thing. "She . . . she's d - she died. Tonight."

Kento's mouth opened, but no words came out. He sat down hard on the bed and tried to process what he'd just been told. No way . . . no way could this happen. This was some freak dream.

"No shit," he finally whispered.

"Few hours ago."

"No way," Kento barely whispered again. He blinked rapidly as the impact of the statement hit him, and he felt grief slowly climb into his heart. "Oh, man. Oh, man, I'm . . . shit." His voice grew thick, and he swallowed back the lump. "What hospital are you at?"

"Tokyo University. I don't think I'm going to . . . stay here. They told me to go home for the night. Come back in the morning. Not much else I can do here." His halting speech, so carefully devoid of emotion yet filled with so much anguish, tore at Kento's heart. "I'll just go . . . home. For tonight. Come back in - tomorrow."

Kento found himself nodding. "All right, buddy, you do that. I'll just meet you at your house, right? Back at home?" Your mom's house.

"Yeah."

"Okay. You just hang in there, all right? Be careful when you drive home."

"Okay." It was said more as an automatic response than as an agreement.

"I mean it," Kento pressed.

"All right," he said, his voice tinged with annoyance. Kento felt the corners of his mouth quirk in response, despite the heavy grief in his heart.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised. "You can count on it." When he hung up, he had planned to immediately start packing, but the grief overwhelmed him for a moment, and he had to sit down.

"In a few more minutes," he mumbled as he raked a hand through his slightly sweaty hair, and rested his head in his hands.

It didn't take Sage long to arrive at the hospital. The university he went to finished their exams a week ahead of the other universities his best friends attended, and he had been home for four days, relaxing after the headache of studying for exams. He had known about what had happened for a day and a half, courtesy of his mother, and it had sorely put a damper on the beginning of his break.

It was hard for him to believe that something like this could happen to such good people, to such a good woman, and it angered him to an extent that it had. He knew well the unfairness of life, but it seemed to hit them all in the face with this event, even more so when he received a phone call from his mother.

She had died. Her heart couldn't take the strain, and gave out. At the age of fifty-two. Sage had gripped the phone tightly in his hand, closed his eyes against the quiet grief that closed around his heart - not just for the woman who died much too young, but for the son he knew so well.

Now, as the blonde young man pulled into the hospital's parking lot and parked, he sighed to himself, feeling eminently subdued. He put his keys in his pocket and walked toward the doors of the emergency room where he would meet his mother and his friend. He thought of different ways to deal with this situation, to approach his friend and comfort him, but it was hard. He'd never faced something like this, the death of a loved one. He had no idea what he could say to make his comrade feel any better, and he was fairly sure that there was nothing he _could_ say to help him.

His mother had said to just be there for him, and Sage was sure he could do that, but it still felt awkward. He blanched at the thought of apologizing like so many people did - 'I'm sorry for your loss,' 'I'm so sorry this happened,' because that didn't feel right. It never struck him as a useful thing to say in the face of a death.

He didn't spot a familiar face amongst the many people in the ER's waiting room and halls, and it took him another few minutes to spot his mother. As he walked up to her, she turned around and saw him.

Her face was worried as she drew her son in for a hug, which he returned. It made him feel marginally better, and a little guilty, to know his own mother was alive and well. To be able to see her.

"He left," was the first thing she told him. Startled, Sage stared at her. "I'm sorry; I couldn't get a hold of you since you'd already left the house. He decided to go home alone, but I think you should go see him anyway. He doesn't need to be alone right now, Sage."

He nodded. "I agree. Thanks, Mother."

"You're welcome." Before he could turn away, Mrs. Date brushed a hand briefly over her son's golden locks, to which he gave a curious look. "Please, drive safe."

He couldn't even muster up a weak smile at the statement, so he just nodded and walked back out, already going over in his head the quickest route to his friend's house.

It was about an hour and a half before Sage pulled up in front of the cozy two story home in the suburbs of Hagi. It wasn't a large house - it never needed to be, but it always held a little more warmth than his household. A warmth that would probably be absent now that its prominent carrier was gone. He turned off the ignition of the car and sat in the quiet darkness for a moment.

He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to see the toll of grief yet. How could this have happened so soon? So sudden? Why was it that every time true happiness was in their grasp, it was snatched away and crushed? Didn't they deserve to be happy?

Sage gathered himself and got out of the car, walked towards the front door. There was one distant light on, and he took note of the car in the driveway. He knocked on the door and waited with his arms folded for it to open.

A minute later, he could hear mute shuffling, and the door opened.


	3. Somewhere In Between

A/N: Hello again! So, so sorry this is as late as it is. It got unwillingly put on the back burner, and I finally got around to finishing it within the last couple of days. Hopefully I get on a roll and chapter three won't be nearly as long in coming. Thank you all _so_ much for your wonderful reviews, I appreciate each and every one of them. Enjoy.

Chapter 2

Sage froze in the doorway and stared solemnly at the sight before him.

Cye looked back at him, eyes glazed with emotion and fatigue. He had one hand curled loosely around the doorframe and the other limp at his side, and a light breeze rustled their hair as they stood quietly watching each other.

Sage swallowed and cleared his throat, and Cye took the hint and moved back so the blonde young man could step in. He shut the door softly behind him and watched the bearer of Halo look around.

The only sound in the house was the faint ticking of the clock in the kitchen, made louder by the absolute stillness of the rest of the house. The atmosphere felt so empty and lifeless to Sage that it made him want to turn on his heel and walk out.

"Sorry I missed you at the hospital," Cye said quietly.

Sage sighed, feeling a brief flash of irritation. When would Cye learn to stop worrying about everyone else? "Don't worry about me."

Unaware of what else to do, he brought a hand up to Cye's neck, and pulled him in to let him rest his head on Sage's shoulder. He could feel Cye trying to collect himself, letting out a shaky sigh and slowly breaking Sage's heart.

"Have you called your sister?"

Cye shook his head no as he pulled away. His eyes held a fine sheen of tears, but he rapidly blinked them back and cleared his throat. "No, I haven't been home that long." He shifted a little uncomfortably. He had thought about it; had stared at the phone, and reached his hand out to pick it up. The closer his hand got to closing over the phone, the more it shook, and he couldn't do it. He wanted to give Sayoko a little more time . . . a little more of the comfort of thinking her mother was alive and well. False comfort. But he didn't want to crush that reality just yet. He just wanted to give Sayoko a little more time. Maybe he could call her tomorrow? It was late, and she was probably getting the kids to bed. Could he really call her house, disrupt her night? Did she even know mum had been in the hospital? Would it come as a complete shock? Would she start crying in front of her children?

Cool hands closed over his own, and Cye jerked in surprise. Sage was looking at him. Had his hands been shaking again? The bearer of Halo's expression was hard to read, but Cye knew he was concerned.

"I'm all right," Cye said.

Sage raised an eyebrow, but decided to let that blatant lie go. They both knew he was anything but.

"Would you like me to?"

"No," Cye shook his head. "I'll . . . I will do it." When Sage looked at him almost expectantly, he felt the irrational anger of a child being forced to do something he didn't want to. Did he have to call his sister _right now?_ Did he have to hear her start to cry on the phone now?

"Cye," Sage said firmly, and then gentled his tone. "You have to call."

Cye's jaw tightened. Yes, he knew he had to. He just didn't want to say it out loud to one more person. Sage walked over to the phone, picked it up, and brought it to Cye wordlessly.

He took it, and as he slowly dialed the numbers of his sister's home, he felt Sage lay a hand on his shoulder. Cye focused on the warmth of his friend's hand through his shirt as the phone rang. And rang. And rang.

"She's not home," Cye whispered. The answering machine picked up, and his sister's voice declared that no one was home and to leave a message. When the beep indicated for him to speak, he momentarily froze with his mouth half open. Shaking himself out of it, Cye spoke. "Hello, Sayoko, it's your brother. You . . . Can you call me when you get this? It's about Mum. Just . . . call me when you get this. Bye." He hung up. He would _not_ tell her their mother was dead through a voice message. He would tell her himself.

"Where would they be right now?" Sage asked quietly.

Cye shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure. That . . . I mean, that wasn't too vague of a message, was it? Should I have –"

Sage shook his head, one pale iris settling back onto Cye. "Don't do this, Cye. It was fine. When she gets it, she'll call you."

At that moment, Sage felt his phone go off in his pocket. He pulled it out, looked at the small screen to see the caller, and flipped it open. "Yes, Ryo?"

Startled, Cye stared at the blonde young man. "You called Ryo?"

Sage held up one finger to shush him, and for the first time that day, Cye felt a twinge of amusement.

"Why don't you have a car?" Sage listened, both eyes exposed as his hair was pushed back to accommodate the phone at his ear. He was looking impassively at Cye as Ryo's tinny voice talked on the other line, and Cye looked back with interest. He didn't know why some people at school had always gone on about Sage's eyes being a little frightening. The color was quite fascinating, but then again, maybe Cye wasn't intimidated at the moment because Sage wasn't really looking _at_ him.

Sage caught Cye staring because he gave him a peculiar look, and Cye smiled a little and shook his head. Sage looked faintly amused before tuning Ryo back in.

"I'm on my way." He gave a sigh as he flipped the phone shut and placed it back in his pocket.

"I didn't know you'd called Ryo," Cye said.

Sage nodded. "I caught him in the middle of an exam. He walked back, and I guess his car won't start. I'm going to pick him up."

"That's a long drive," Cye said worriedly. "Are you sure –"

"If I didn't pick him up, Cye, he would walk here. He wants to be here." Sage gave Cye a meaningful look, before adding, "Do you want to come with?"

It sounded very tempting. But . . . "I'd better not. Sayoko might call back, and Kento might show up."

_Good_, Sage thought. Then Cye won't be alone for very long while he was gone. "All right." He walked to the door, and Cye followed him. Sage paused in the open doorway, and looked at Cye. "Eat something. And don't wait up for us. You will not be awake at three in the morning, understand?"

Cye shook his head, trying not to think that the comment was something his mother would say. "Yes, Sage."

And then he was alone in the house.

When Sage had been inside, he had felt better. Calmer. Sage had a particularly soothing presence at times because of his serene disposition, and this was one of them. But with the blonde young man gone, the house felt darker and quiet.

Oh, it was so quiet. Cye moved from the foyer to the living room. He had only been home for maybe fifteen minutes before Sage had arrived, and in those fifteen minutes he had not left the living room. Everything was clean except for the papers he had scattered on the glass table in front of the couch. Papers the hospital had given him. And the coroner. They had called the coroner for him, and said they would take care of it. That he didn't need to be there. He hadn't wanted to see them take his mother away, anyhow.

The hand around his heart curled into a fist, the grief squeezing and weighing it down until he wanted to crawl in a hole to escape it. Cye was once again aware of the pressure on his chest that hadn't really gone away since the hospital called him. The house was so quiet. It was simply unreal. This could not be happening – not to him, not to his family. He couldn't really be the only occupant in this house now.

_Stop it_. Cye took in a few deep breaths. He couldn't go down that well now. It felt like a hot coal – something he couldn't touch. He couldn't touch on what was really happening without rendering himself dysfunctional. He had things to do.

But he didn't, really. He hadn't packed anything from school to come home – as he recalled, he'd just hopped in his car and drove home with his keys and his wallet. Nothing else. So he couldn't unpack. And he wasn't hungry. Or tired. He couldn't clean, either. His mo-

_No_. Cye put a hand to his forehead and took another deep breath. Go through the papers. Something to do. Besides listening to that incorrigible grandfather clock tick away in the corner of the living room.

That clock drove him crazy. But she loved it. So he put up with it, because she liked it so much, just like she liked those plum purple drapes that Cye had insisted looked nauseating against the color of the walls, but he put them up anyways because she liked them and it made her laugh when he made fun of them.

Oh, God. What had she ever done? What had she done but love? She was the kindest, most gentle soul, and he loved her so much it hurt to breathe when he thought about going on without her. He wanted this nightmare to be over, but he knew it was just beginning. Cye fought for control over the overwhelming misery, and he was horrified to find that he was only moments from breaking down in the middle of his living room.

He took in another few ragged, deep breaths, a sob catching in his throat before he swallowed it back and rubbed at the tears in his eyes. Cye pursed his lips shut in an effort to keep them from trembling, and he slowly walked over to sit down on the couch. The grandfather clock chimed the hour.

Cye never could cry silently.

Kento almost nailed some guy's car when he turned the corner onto Cye's street. "You have a driveway!" Kento yelled at the darkened house. "Use it!"

He shook off that little scare and slowed the car down before pulling up in front of Cye's. Turning off the engine, Kento let out a whoosh of breath before getting out and walking up the sidewalk, jingling the keys in his hand. His palms were sweaty. He was really surprised he didn't get a speeding ticket driving here, and he was pretty sure that if a cop had tried to pull him over, he would have just kept driving and they would have arrested him in front of Cye's house.

Kento didn't bother knocking, and let himself in the unlocked front door. He closed it quietly behind him once inside, and took a quick glance around the living room and what he could see of an adjoining hallway. Was Cye in his room? He almost yelled out Cye's name, but thought better of it and made his way down the hallway on the first floor, taking a quick peek in the kitchen before moving on. He looked into the first room on his right.

Mrs. Mouri's pottery room. Renewed sadness overcame him at seeing the empty stool and some of her completed vases on the walls – and some uncompleted vases on the shelves. "Oh, man," Kento murmured to himself, and had to turn away.

He found Cye at the end of the hall, where a smaller den was located. Mrs. Mouri used to use it as a play room for Cye when he was a kid, and now it was where he and Cye watched movies and played video games.

The TV was dark, and Cye was sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by papers and a pen in hand.

"Cye."

Cye looked up from his Indian style position on the floor and immediately spotted the large form of his best friend in the doorway. Dark blue eyes peered down at him, heavy with sympathy and a grief of his own. "Hey, man. How you holdin' up?"

Cye nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. He didn't feel like getting up, so he remained on the floor, surrounded by the various papers.

Kento only hesitated for a split second before walking slowly up, nudging a few of the papers out of the way with his foot before sitting down in front of Cye. The young man's coppery brown hair was tousled, as if he'd just woken up, and his face was incredibly pale and drawn. Kento's heart beat painfully for his friend. He couldn't imagine what he was going through, but being his best friend helped him understand just how agonizing this was. His normally calm and contented green eyes were wounded and filled with misery, and it broke Kento's heart to see it.

And it made him angry. The news was like getting hit over the head with a brick. Mrs. Mouri was never in the best of health, but dammit, she was only fifty-two! It made him mad just as much as it saddened him that something like this could happen to such good people. To such a good woman.

Kento's thoughts turned to past memories he'd had of the brown haired woman with the smiling eyes that ran her household with a firm but loving hand, just like his mother; only less loud, and she didn't hit her firstborn with a spoon. Mrs. Mouri had always been on the thin side, and was a good four inches shorter than her son, but one word from her and Cye - hell, all of them, were ready with a 'yes, ma'am', and if she wanted something done, it was done. The young man felt his eyes start to burn, and he pushed those thoughts away and focused on the hunched over form in front of him.

Cye had his head down as he looked over some papers, occasionally flipping them over to read the backs. Kento was pretty sure he wasn't really reading them, but decided not to comment. His eyes wandered to the heads of the forms. "Where's Sayoko? House is pretty quiet."

Cye stiffened slightly. "I haven't gotten a hold of her yet."

Kento's brow furrowed. "Really?"

"Left messages. She's probably on her way."

Kento breathed out through his nose in frustration. He felt so helpless; how could he help Cye? What did he say now? I'm sorry? He knew that nothing he could say would lessen the grief his best friend felt, and it tore at his heart to know that there was literally nothing he could do.

But . . . brightening, Kento shifted into a similar Indian style position. "Did you tell any of the other guys?"

Cye's brow furrowed, and he paused from the paper he was looking at from the hospital. "Only you. Sage knew . . . his mother works at that hospital. And he told Ryo. He's picking up Ryo now. Rowen –"

Kento allowed himself a small smile. "Don't sweat Rowen, I already called him. He's on his way, too."

The bearer of Torrent looked up in surprise, meeting Kento's compassionate blue eyes with his own lost sea green ones, and then he smiled slightly.

"Thanks, Kento."

"Hey, what are best friends for?"

Cye gave him another small smile that spoke volumes to Kento of how thankful he was for his presence. Moved, Kento reached out and laid a hand on Cye's shoulder. "We'll get through this. You'll get through it." He reached up and briefly roughed up Cye's hair before pulling away.

He shook his head and tried to fix Kento's handiwork, sparing his friend a slightly annoyed glance, to which Kento only grinned back. Cye turned his eyes back on the paper as he thought about what Kento said. Would he get through this? Every time he tried to imagine dealing with this and 'getting over it' he couldn't do it. It made him sick to think about going on without her.

"I don't know, Kento." His voice came out in a whisper. The heaviness on his chest was swelling, crawling into his lungs and making it hard to breathe. "I don't know if I can. This is unbelievable."

Frowning and frustrated, Kento ran a hand through his dark gray/blue hair. "I know, man. I . . . dude, I don't really know what to say, you know? I mean, I know if it was my mom, I wouldn't want to hear shit, but . . ."

"I know," Cye said quietly, tiredly. He was so fatigued, but he couldn't sleep. "It's all right, Kento."

That wasn't good enough. It _wasn't _all right. The circles under his best friend's eyes weren't all right; the fact that his mother was dead wasn't all right. "I mean, is there anything I _can _do?"

There was a brief moment of quiet before the doorbell rang. Cye looked over to the wall that separated the room they were in the front parlor. "You can get the door for me."

Snorting, Kento swiped out at Cye's head playfully, foolishly pleased that it got a ghost of a smile out of his friend. He got up from the floor and jogged lightly from the room to the front of the quiet home. Way too damn quiet. The muscular young man pulled open the door and met the worried blue eyes of a tall, lanky young man with shockingly blue hair and wrinkled clothing.

"Drove like a maniac, didn't you?" Kento said in response of his quickness to arrive, and they gave each other a hug.

"Didn't you?" Rowen retorted. He pulled back and glanced quickly around the neatly kept house. "Where is he?" he asked in a lowered voice.

Kento jerked his head to the right. "In the next room, looking over a ton of papers from the hospital, stuff like that. Sayoko's not here yet."

Rowen's frowned. "She hasn't heard yet?"

"I guess Cye's left messages for her, and he hasn't reached her yet."

"How is he?"

Kento didn't have to say anything. The sorrow in his eyes was telling, and Rowen's own eyes darkened with sadness. How messed up was this? Right out of the blue, and she was gone, just like that. No one deserved that.

"This is shit," Rowen couldn't help but express bitterly.

As he was thinking the same thing, Kento nodded in full agreement. Rowen sighed heavily and tugged off his jacket, slung it over a chair a few feet away.

"I think we should stay with him," Kento told him, voice lowered minimally.

Rowen looked over, blue eyebrow raised. "No, really Kento? And here I thought we were going to wish him the best of luck and leave."

"Asshole," Kento said simply. "I meant the night. I don't think he needs to be alone. Where were you planning on staying?"

Rowen frowned. "Hadn't thought that far. Probably my mom's apartment. Here's fine, I guess, but I wasn't counting on it. I suppose it'd be better if we stayed here with him." The blue haired young man watched Kento nod and stretch. In light of all that was happening, the bearer of Hardrock was turning out to be quite a reliable source. It was apparent he'd voted himself temporary mother hen for Cye. Good, Rowen thought. He was right - Cye didn't need to be alone.

"So what exactly came first?" Rowen asked quietly.

Kento let out a long breath. That feeling of uselessness was coming back as both stood in the parlor, nothing to do but dwell on the darkness that had crept into their friend's life. "I guess they're not entirely sure. The accident was in motion, and then she had the heart attack. Hit the pole."

Rowen winced. God, it sounded so terrible. Kind, generous Mrs. Mouri helpless during that accident, having that heart attack and nothing she could do about it. "The trauma of the accident probably triggered the heart attack. Cye always said her heart was fairly weak. Her hand might have jerked the wheel right into the pole while it was going on."

"Christ, that was more than I needed to know," Kento shot the other a pained look.

"Sorry," Rowen mumbled. He was so tired from driving all night, but the sadness had been keeping it at bay. The two glanced at each other before moving to the room Cye was in unspoken agreement. Kento entered in first, and Rowen spotted the water-loving bearer sitting Indian style on the floor, staring listlessly at a spot on the floor with a piece

of paper on it.

"Hey," Rowen said softly when he got close enough. Cye lifted his head from where it rested on his fist, and the bearer of Strata was slightly startled to see drying tear tracks on the young man's cheeks.

"Cye, buddy, maybe you should leave the papers alone for now," Kento commented, his voice soothing as he laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's pretty late, and Sage probably won't get back here with Ryo for another few hours."

Cye shook his head, unseeing. "Wanna get this out of the way now, Kento. Have to meet with some people about the . . . funeral." He almost choked upon that word, and had to take a long minute to force back the lump that had welled up in his throat.

Rowen shifted, uncomfortable with his friend's agony and just as helpless as Kento with what to do about it. He studied Cye's lean, hunched over form, and an idea slowly planted in his head. "Have you eaten lately?" he asked.

Cye paused, trying to remember the last time he had. He couldn't, but his stomach was reminding him that it had been a while. "No. Haven't . . . been to the kitchen."

Rowen put his hand on Cye's head momentarily. "How about I fix us a late night snack while you finish up in here?" Cye nodded in agreement. "What would you like?"

"I don't care," he commented dully.

The blue haired young man pursed his lips. "I'll probably just make some sandwiches. What kind of meat do you want?"

"It – it doesn't matter, Rowen," Cye sighed tiredly. His mind felt frayed at the edges, like he'd been functioning for way too long. "Just . . . whatever you feel like, I don't care."

Rowen and Kento exchanged another look before the former turned around and walked towards the kitchen. Kento squeezed Cye's shoulder one last time with, "I'll help him. We'll be right back." He followed after to the back of the house where the kitchen was.

Cye watched them go; one stocky, looking scruffed andwearing the same shirt Cye was sure he'd been wearing for a few days, and the otherslightly more refined despite thewrinkled shirt and bright blue hair falling anyplace it wanted. It made Cye feel a little better.


	4. Running For Home

A/N: Wow, I'm pretty bad with these updates. I'm sorry for this being so late. Starting up a full time job kind of cuts my writing time down, but I'm trying. Thank you all so much for your reviews – I really love hearing from all of you. Oh, and Ghost – I had you in mind for the end of this chapter, and for anyone else who thought someone should 'freaking hug Cye' :)

Chapter 3

Ryo had _not_ been expecting this kind of news in the middle of his exam.

He almost hadn't answered his phone. He felt it vibrate in a lower pocket of his pants, and the thought of answering it in the completely silent auditorium and calling attention to him was somewhat daunting. However, Ryo knew he couldn't just let the call go – he could at least see who it was. He put aside the question he'd been agonizing over for the past couple of minutes – what the _hell_ was the name of the one bone that's suspended in the throat and not connected to other bones?

Ryo took a quick glance around the room – heads were bent towards their papers, and the professor was grading papers at the desk in the front. He slipped the vibrating cell phone from his pocket, and flipped it open to read who the caller was.

Sage.

Why would Sage call him now? He knew Ryo had his finals. He would never call and risk disrupting one of Ryo's exams. This had to be important, and Ryo, for reasons unknown to him, suddenly dreaded what he could be calling for. The black haired youth put his pencil down on the paper and slid silently out of his seat. He walked up the steps, glad he had chosen a seat closer to the exit, and tried to open and close the door as innocuously as possible. The hall was equally still and silent, and just at the end of the hall, he could see outside the doors and into the pitch black of nighttime. He hit send the moment he was in the hallway.

"Hey," Ryo said quietly. "What's up, Sage?"

There was a slight pause on the other end, and then Sage cleared his throat. "I wasn't sure you were going to answer. Did I interrupt a test?"

"I'm taking my biology exam, but that's okay, it's not a big deal. What's up?" Ryo repeated. His palms felt a little sweaty, and he paced over to a nearby bench but did not sit down. He had a strong, awful feeling that he was not going to like what Sage called for.

The blonde had never minced his words before, and he did not keep Ryo waiting.

"Cye's mother died tonight. From a heart attack due to a car accident she was in two days ago."

There was total silence on either end for a long minute. Ryo almost didn't believe what the blonde just told him. Struggling to grasp the concept, Ryo couldn't shake the surreal feeling that it was giving him. "Mrs. Mouri's dead?"

It took Sage a moment to reply. "Yes."

An image of Mrs. Mouri immediately sprang into Ryo's mental eye, and his mind went back to the last time he saw her: dinner at her house over a weekend stay, when everyone had a few free days and decided to visit her and take a small vacation off of school. Sitting outside on her patio, laughing at something Kento had said. She had been thrilled when they had showed up on her doorstep, and had cooked like a fiend and talked up a storm to all five of them. Ryo remembered sitting in her kitchen on that weekend, watching the slim woman make omelet's for breakfast with her son and teasing Ryo over the test he almost got a zero on for oversleeping and nearly missing the class. She had been grinning at him, spatula in hand and brown hair pulled back in a messy bun. Ryo had always thought that she was a lovely woman, with her British accent just like her son and her ability to make them all feel as if they belonged in that house just as much as her son did. And there was such love between her and Cye; they simply adored each other.

The pain that hit Ryo's chest drove him to sit hard on the bench. A fist squeezed his heart, and Ryo had to take a few deep breaths. She was _dead_.

"Ryo?"

"Yeah." His voice shook. Cye. Cye had to be devastated. How could he be so far away while this was happening? "I should leave now –"

"You should finish your test first," Sage interrupted gently. "I know it will be hard to concentrate, but you're not helping anyone by failing your biology exam."

"How's Cye?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen him yet. I'm driving to his house now. I missed him at the hospital."

"All right." Ryo let out a shaky sigh and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He stood up. "I'll finish this, and then I'll be on my way."

"Don't drive like a maniac, Ryo."

Ryo blew out a breath and couldn't help but be amused. "Pot and kettle, Sage."

He was awarded with a slight chuckle before they said their goodbyes and respectively hung up.

He walked back into that auditorium; still quiet, heads still bent, although a few glanced up at him as he walked back down the steps to his seat. He stared at the packet of paper on the desk, and willed himself to finish the test. He stared blankly at the question that had been eluding him for the past few minutes.

"Hyoid," he said quietly. He remembered the answer, and in record time, finished the rest of the exam. He knew the results of this test would be less than stellar with his last few minutes rush job, but he suddenly didn't care very much.

When Ryo had sped walked back to his dorm and found that his car decided it didn't want to start, he couldn't believe his bad luck. After a bout of cursing the car and trying to swallow past the lump in his throat over the combination of grief and frustration, Ryo called Sage back to ask for a ride.

Of course he had said yes. So now Ryo was sitting outside the dorm, his hastily packed bag at his feet. Thankfully he had no roommate to answer to; being an RA on his floor had its perks. Since he had no choice but to wait the hour and a half it would take Sage to get there, Ryo had been able to find someone to keep an eye on the floor while he was gone, a pretty decent guy who's room was a few doors down from Ryo's. He wasn't worried about the kids on his floor, though; they liked Ryo, and hardly any of them gave him trouble or brought trouble to the floor.

After an hour or so of waiting, Ryo heard a car pull up. The purr of the engine came to an idle, and finally shut off. Sitting on the bench outside of the dorm, Ryo watched Sage. He cut a dramatic figure, as always, stepping out of a sleek black car, wearing tan slacks and a deep purple dress shirt, looking for the entire world like a blonde, Adonis-like model that hailed from some romantic, cultured country in Europe. No matter how hard Sage tried, he would always stand out, and Ryo never thought that was necessarily a bad thing, like Sage did. Sometimes Ryo really did wonder if Sage had been born in the wrong era; not the wrong country, since Sage took to Japanese tradition like a duck took to water, but when Ryo looked at Sage, he thought he saw a glimpse of what ancient warriors had looked like back when swords were still the weapon of choice, and chivalry was not dead.

"You haven't been sitting out here for the past hour and a half, have you?"

Ryo gave him a look. The expression on his face told Sage all he needed to know, and the blonde sighed in resignation.

"Are you up for driving back, Sage?" Ryo asked, voice subdued. "Or do you want me to?"

"You're not driving my car, Ryo."

A faint smile crossed Ryo's face, and he unfolded his length from the bench and slung the duffel bag over one shoulder. He followed Sage to the car and got in the passenger seat, tossing his bag into the back.

The car ride was silent for the first ten minutes or so. Sage did not seem inclined to talk, and Ryo, quite frankly, didn't want to, either. He contented himself to watch the darkened fields, forests, and small towns pass by. Faint classical music played from the stereo system, and Ryo found it calming, as he imagined Sage did.

He felt terrible for Cye. Losing Cye's mother felt like losing the closest thing Ryo had to one besides his own grandmother and to another extent, Kento's mother. He didn't know what was going to happen over the next few days, but he knew it would be painful.

Sage, surprisingly, ended up breaking the silence. "Kento is with Cye."

Ryo closed his eyes in relief. "Good. I take it we're just staying with Cye, then."

Sage nodded slowly. "I hadn't planned for it. I don't have anything with me, but that shouldn't be a problem for tonight, at least. I can swing by my parents in the morning. I imagine Cye doesn't have anything with him, either."

"It's his mom's house; she'd have kept some of his clothes there," Ryo said. It just felt like something she would do. They fell silent again. Thirty minutes into the car ride, Sage had to stop for gas at a small town. Ryo offered to pay for the gas, to which Sage sent him a glare and walked in and paid for it himself.

They were past half way there when Ryo asked, "Does Mia know?"

"Not home. She's at that seminar, remember?"

Even as Sage said it, Ryo nodded, recalling that the last time they all spoke; Mia had been talking about a seminar at a university farther north she was attending to. It was almost over, however, and if Ryo remembered correctly, she would be home as early as tomorrow. Ryo agreed with Sage in that it would be pointless to leave her a message and spoil the one thing she'd been looking forward to for months. They would let Mia know when she got back.

Moments later, it occurred to Ryo that he would have preferred fighting Talpa to this. At least then there was someone to place the blame on. Now, however, the only one to blame for this death was mortality.

The lights were on in the kitchen, making the creamy white counters and oak cabinets reflect off it and gleam. The tiles under Kento's feet were cool, and the un-drawn window above the sink told the lateness of the hour. Rowen had stopped in the middle of the empty kitchen and was staring at the L-shaped countertop between the sink and the refrigerator in the corner of the room.

"What?" Kento asked automatically. He walked up next to Rowen's still figure and followed his gaze to the counter. "Oh . . ."

Someone had been in the middle of making something. A box of pasta lay open on the counter, next to a cutting board with a long knife and two plump, rotting tomatoes resting on it. A can of mushrooms sat on the other side of the board, and further away a package of hamburger meat lay, now spoiled from sitting out for two days.

Spaghetti.

Mrs. Mouri had died in the middle of preparing dinner for herself.

Rowen and Kento were struck with a pang of grief for the woman, so sharp it took their breath away. It broke Rowen's heart to know that she'd been alone for so long with both of her children living elsewhere, and she'd been preparing a meal by herself. Apparently she had been missing something for her dinner, or else she wouldn't have left the food to rot. Just a quick trip to the store. A quick trip that ended her life.

"Oh, man," Kento breathed, a bit shaken up at being confronted with the unnatural suddenness of her death and the ordinary task of her cooking a meal. He half expected her to come through the door, bright eyed and smiling, and continue making her meal, but he knew this particular dinner would never get finished.

"We should . . . clean that up," Rowen said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. He cleared his throat, blinked a few times. "Before Cye sees it."

Kento shifted, feeling a little uneasy about disturbing the last thing Mrs. Mouri had been doing in life. It didn't sit well with him. "I don't know, maybe we should -"

"We can't just leave it there," Rowen gestured to it with a hand, and then ran that hand through his blue locks. "It needs to be picked up sometime. I mean, the meat's rotted, we should just toss it, clean the rest up."

"All right," Kento agreed reluctantly. Neither of them moved for a long minute, and then the bearer of Hardrock took the initiative and walked towards the hamburger meat. He picked it up gingerly, and then carried the stinking meat to the garbage can, careful to keep any of the juice it expelled from spilling. Rowen reached down for the knife on the cutting board and hesitated while picking it up. He, too, was struck with a sense of wrongness, as if he were disturbing something that should be better left alone.

The knife had never been used, and after opening a few drawers, he found the utensils drawer and put it back. He used a few paper towels to gather up the tomatoes and put them in the trash, too, and then lifted the lid completely to take out the garbage bag. It would smell to high heaven in an hour or two if they didn't put it out now. "Garbage cans in the garage?" Rowen asked. Kento nodded, and Rowen walked over to the garage door, quickly located the cans, and tossed the bag in. When he came back, Kento had the refrigerator door open and was pulling out a few different lunch meats and some condiments.

Rowen helped himself to the cupboards, and perused their contents until he found some things he could use. "I could make some of this pasta, too. Although, I'm not sure if he'll eat it. I don't think his appetite's going to be up to par."

"Make it anyway. Whatever he doesn't eat, I'll eat."

Rowen smiled to himself and pulled out the bag of pasta. She didn't have any pre-made sauces; she and Cye were big on making things from scratch, so he inspected the fridge for anything he could use. Rowen found enough ingredients to make a good white sauce that could go with, and if he made enough, they would have leftovers for when Sage and Ryo arrived. Rowen set to cooking the pasta while Kento made the sandwiches.

With the water heating on the stove, Rowen leaned against it, arms folded and head down. He could see Kento in his peripheral vision, pulling out slices of white bread. Rowen mentally counted the sandwich tally as Kento kept adding bread; two sandwiches, three, four, five, six . . . Rowen shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

"How many sandwiches do you plan on having?" Rowen asked.

Kento shrugged. "Probably as many as you. Ham, turkey, or beef?"

"Ham and beef."

"Mayo?"

"And mustard. Lettuce, too, if there is any." Kento nodded, and Rowen allowed his mind to wander off while Kento made the sandwiches.

Rowen assumed Sayoko would get the message tonight – in the morning, at the latest. She would call; and weren't they all looking forward to that conversation? He closed his eyes and sighed. He simply could not believe this. Mrs. Mouri had been far too young. And Cye was too young to be an orphan already. Was Mrs. Mouri's house paid for? Cye might have to sell the house if he and Sayoko couldn't afford the upkeep and utility payments. It would feel strange to never be able to stop by this house again.

Rowen checked on the water, and found it near boiling. As he put in the pasta, he became aware of Kento humming a nameless tune to himself while he made sandwiches, to which Rowen couldn't help but snort out a laugh.

Kento looked up from the mayonnaise he was spreading. "What?"

"Never mind."

Kento shrugged and let it go. "You think Cye's okay in there?"

"I think that Cye needs some alone time. The last thing I would want if I was hurting that bad would be everyone flocking around me like mother hens."

"Yeah, well, that's you," Kento replied, almost absently as he finished the fourth sandwich and started on the fifth. "I think Cye needs to get in touch with his sister."

Rowen nodded his agreement. He stirred the pasta every so often, and his eyes happened to be focused on the kitchen counter. There was a small basket filled with envelopes and papers; bills and stray notes, all in relatively good order. A few receipts. The last one was from a donut shop down the street. That made Rowen smile. Near the basket was a small deformed cup glazed with bright blues and purples. He assumed it was either a young Cye's handiwork or a grandchild's. Resting against the cup's handle was a yellow note that read, in Mrs. Mouri's flowing handwriting: _Pick up flowers for Mr. Santori, send vase to Sayoko. Call Cye._

A lump formed in Rowen's throat. That woman had always thought of everything. From what he saw of her – and he saw more of Mrs. Mouri than he ever saw of his own mother – she had been an ideal mother. His vision blurred, and he turned his eyes away from the note and down to the pasta. He bit back an oath when he realized the water had nearly boiled over, and then turned the heat down and kept stirring. Rowen cleared his throat and ignored the fact that Kento was now watching him.

"Is there any of that tea that Cye likes?" Rowen asked.

Kento nodded, and cleared his own throat. "In one of the cupboards. I'll get it ready." He finished the last sandwich, and as he walked past Rowen, he his hand on Rowen's shoulder and, instead of patting it like Rowen assumed he would, the hand moved up and went straight for his hair.

"What the _hell_, Kento!" Rowen ducked as the bearer of Hardrock sunk his fingers in Rowen's blue locks and completely mussed them up as hard as he could. Rowen reached up to grab Kento's hand and possibly throw him to the ground, but Kento withdrew his hand with a chuckle.

"Might want to fix that."

"Asshole. I can't believe you just did that."

"I can't believe you freak out every time someone touches your hair."

Rowen just glared at him as he tried to smooth his hair back into place. "No one bothers to touch my hair but you."

"Lighten up, Rowen. Your hair's pretty the way it is."

Rowen let loose an almost involuntary chuckle.

"Now go in the bathroom and fix it up nice for Ryo and Sage."

"Kiss my ass."

"Okay." Kento moved towards Rowen and, startled, the blue haired young man darted out of the way and gave Kento a wide-eyed, '_What is wrong with you?_' look. Kento chuckled and held up his hands to appease Rowen. "Relax, your masculinity's intact." Rowen watched him with bemusement as the bearer of Hardrock moved around him to get the tea ready. He turned back to the noodles and, finding them almost done, turned off the heat.

_Fwapp!_

The bearer of Strata let out a high, strangled squeak as the dish towel from the stove cracked his behind, and the young man nearly jumped half a foot at the sting. He immediately whirled around to tackle Kento and take the dish cloth away from him, but Kento, laughing, kept it just out of reach. Half fed up and half terribly amused and relieved at Kento's attempt to lighten the atmosphere, Rowen sprinted across the kitchen tiles, prepared to take Kento down by plowing into his midsection – and then maybe –

"What the bloody hell is going on in here?"

Kento looked over and Rowen skidded to a stop on the tile. Cye stood in the doorway, looking confused and amused at the same time.

"Kento's hitting on me," Rowen supplied before Kento could get a word in. "Literally and figuratively."

Kento snorted. "Yeah, I only want you for your body, Ro."

Cye didn't even want to know, so he told them so. His eyes shifted over to the sandwiches balanced precariously on top of one another on a plate, and the boiling pot on the stove. A smile tugged at his lips. "Isn't it a bit late to make dinner?"

Kento slanted a glance at Cye, as if to say _when is it ever too late to eat a meal?_

"You're forgetting who's standing in your kitchen, Cye," Rowen said, along the lines of Kento's thoughts. The blue haired young man shut off the heat to the stove, and proceeded to drain the water from the cooked pasta. "Do you want the white sauce or a marinara?"

Slightly befuddled at watching Rowen play homemaker in his kitchen, Cye watched him place the lid on the pot and pour the steaming hot water into the sink. "The…alfredo sauce is fine. I suppose Ryo and Sage could eat the leftovers when they arrive."

"That's right," Kento agreed. "Now, eat a sandwich." Kento picked up two, handed on to Cye, who took it out of reflex, and began to eat the one in his hand.

"I'm really not very hungry," Cye started, but Kento cut him off with a wave of his hand.

Through a mouthful of food, Kento said, "You'll eat it, and you'll like it."

"Way to spray your half eaten food everywhere, Kento."

"Shut up, Rowen."

Cye was again caught between amusement and exasperation with them. He knew what they were doing, and he appreciated it, but a small part of him just wanted to sit in a room by himself and find some way to get this horrible thing out of his chest. If he thought about it too much, though, he'd nearly incapacitate himself, so Cye struggled to come back to the here and now and focus on Rowen and Kento.

Rowen had the pasta drained and was making the sauce, and when Cye offered to help, he almost declined. He took a better look at Cye, though, and then relented. Cye needed to do something other than work through the funeral arrangements.

When he finished the sauce and Rowen mixed it together, Cye pulled out a few bowls and Rowen dished out portions of pasta, leaving a fair amount in there for Ryo and Sage.

"We should leave a note on the fridge for them," Kento suggested.

"If they even come in the kitchen," Rowen said.

"Ryo will," Kento and Cye said simultaneously, and made Kento and Rowen laugh while Cye gave a small smile. They ate their small meal standing up in the kitchen; Kento leaning against the table, Cye with his back to the refrigerator, and Rowen with his hip resting against the countertop.

"Kento, don't you still have finals?" Rowen asked.

Kento shook his head while he chewed his food, and once he swallowed, he said, "Just a paper for an English class. My last test was yesterday. Paper's not due for another few days, no big deal there. It can wait."

Cye's hand briefly clenched the fork he held. He didn't want them all to put their lives on hold for him. He had only taken two of his finals; he had two more to take the day after tomorrow. He would have to call his professors and explain what had happened. Scratch that; he would have to call quite a few people and explain what was happening. The mere thought of having to wake up and do it tomorrow filled him with dread. He needed to think about something else.

"Are you missing exams, Rowen?" Cye asked.

Rowen shook his head. "Nah, I just finished mine. The only reason I'd need to go back is to get my stuff, and campus is still open for another week or so. I'm not in a hurry."

Rowen was lying through his teeth, and Kento knew it. Rowen had one more final – an advanced trigonometry final – tomorrow night. Hadn't he talked about it to Kento about a week ago when they'd gotten together for lunch? Kento passed Rowen a strange look, to which the blue haired young man gazed coolly back before turning to Cye to speak with him.

Kento understood why Rowen had fibbed, though; he could see it in Cye's face. Cye felt like this was inconveniencing everyone, and God only knew why. He needed to get it through his head that this was more important to them than finals. Rowen would work his way around it; the kid was a genius, he could probably sweet talk his professor into letting him make it up.

It was almost one in the morning when bowls scraped clean of food were set into the sink. Rowen and Kento had kept Cye talking until he finished most of his sandwich and about half of the pasta. It was good enough for them; now they would have to get him to sleep.

"Well, I'm freaking tired," Kento remarked as they left the kitchen for the living room. "I can crash on the couch and Rowen can sleep in the garage."

"Har har," Rowen said dryly. "You're a barrel of laughs, Kento."

"And don't forget it. Hey, Cye, doesn't the –"

"The couch folds out into a bed, yes," Cye finished. "Two of you can stay there; someone can stay in the guest bedroom, and the other couch should be long enough for someone."

"Kento, you can have the bedroom," Rowen immediately put in. "And yes, that was an insult. No one's getting any sleep if your snoring isn't boxed within four walls."

"Now who's the funny monkey?" Kento swatted at Rowen's head, who easily slid out of the way. "I don't care, that's fine. See you in the morning, Cye?"

Cye nodded. "Thank you both so much for staying."

Rowen sighed and Kento snorted. "Like we would do anything less, Cye," Kento chided gently. Cye gave him a weak smile, and after helping Rowen pull out the couch's bed, he walked with Kento into the hallway where the bedrooms were. Cye studiously ignored the closed doorway at the end of the hall that was his mother's room; he couldn't go in there yet. Instead, he veered off into his own room.

The guest bedroom was across from his, and Kento paused in the doorway to look at Cye. Deep blue eyes looked him over, a reflection of some of the grief that Cye felt; grief and concern. "You gonna be all right to sleep tonight?"

"I think so. Goodnight, Kento." Cye turned to go into his room, and before he could get in, he felt Kento lay a hand on his shoulder. Cye turned, and was enveloped in a solid bear hug from his friend. Immediately, a lump formed in Cye's throat, making it hard to swallow, and his heart clenched with a mixture of pain, gratitude, and warmth. The physical contact of being hugged at a time like this was almost more than Cye could bear; he didn't want the sympathy, but a part of him needed it. Hot tears stung his eyes, and he blinked them back rapidly; he heard Kento sniff and disguise it by clearing his throat.

"Just hang in there, all right?" Kento said softly in his ear, and then pulled away. He clapped another large hand on Cye's shoulder, and smiled athim before turning away before his friend could see the fine sheen of tears in his eyes.

Cye went to sleep in his old bedroom that night exhausted, grief-stricken, and feeling enormously thankful for his best friends.


	5. Something She Said

Chapter 4

Rowen was watching the television when he saw the headlights sweep across the thin curtains covering the window. He had the volume so low that the subtitles picked up, but he hadn't cared enough about the show to actually pay attention. For about a half hour, he amused himself with late night cartoons, letting out a stray chuckle now and again, and now he had settled on some cooking show, occupying his mind by trying to identify the ingredients in the concoctions the chefs were creating. Soft laughter had been replaced with sounds of disgust or intrigue as Rowen struggled to think in his half awake state of who would voluntarily eat some of the things they were cooking.

He got out of the couch bed just as he heard the engine idling in the driveway shut off. Rowen half jogged to the doorway to open it before they knocked; he flipped the lock and opened the door just as Ryo and Sage were coming up to the porch. Cye had decided to leave the porch light on for them, and the two stepped into the pool of light it created.

"Hey," Rowen said after he realized he could think of nothing witty or lighthearted to say at the moment. Ryo looked up at him and squinted against the light, and Sage absently swatted his hand near his hair to drive away the moths and small bugs the porch light had attracted.

"Hey, Rowen," Ryo said, and Rowen moved out of the way so the other young man could lug his duffel bag inside. Sage waited until he was in to enter, hands in his pockets, and made his way in after. Rowen shut the door behind him and flipped the switch to turn off the porch lights, plunging the front entryway into darkness.

"Turn on the far lamp, Sage; Cye and Kento are sleeping," Rowen called softly. The blonde nodded, hair unnaturally bright against the darkness, and turned on the lamp in the far corner of the room, bathing the living area in a soft, mellow glow.

Ryo dropped his bag next to the couch bed, and for a moment, he had no idea what to do. He wasn't tired; he couldn't imagine going to sleep after having just gotten here. He didn't feel up to coming up with any solutions for this at the moment, so he just turned to look at Rowen.

"You guys hungry?"

Fifteen minutes later found the three of them in the kitchen, mirroring the previous three who stood in the kitchen and ate. Pasta was still heating in the microwave, and Ryo was munching on a sandwich while Sage waited for his pasta. Rowen filled both in on whatever they didn't previously know, Ryo interjecting questions here and there as Sage kept completely silent. When Rowen finished, the kitchen was still except for the soft whirring of the microwave running.

"There's really nothing we can do now," Rowen said with a sigh. Idly, he rubbed his left foot with his right to absolve a mild itch, feeling the callous of his heel against the soft flesh of the inner arch. "Except be there for him."

"Did they catch the driver of the truck?" Ryo asked. Rowen and Sage looked up at that, and then exchanged glances. They hadn't really thought of that.

"I have no idea," Rowen admitted.

Sage shook his head slightly. "Cye never mentioned the other driver. I don't believe it was a hit and run, and my mother would have told me if he had been injured and at the hospital, too. We'll have to ask in the morning."

Ryo nodded, and just as he was about to speak, the shuffling of feet on carpet turned their attention to the doorway, and the three waited for the figure to appear.

The bulk muscle of a young man lumbered up in the shadows, and walked slowly into the kitchen. Kento rubbed sleep from his eyes and yawned loudly before waving at Sage and Ryo. "What's up, guys?"

Ryo couldn't help but smile as Kento slapped him on the back good naturedly, and the smile turned into a grin when he tried to do something similar to Sage and the blonde man glared at him, his expression clearly saying 'don't even think about it.'

"Did we wake you up?" Ryo asked.

"Nah." Kento shook his head. "But that did." He pointed to the microwave, and Rowen snorted. "The microwave's attached to the same wall where the bed is, idiot." Rowen flipped him the bird, and Kento ignored it. "So what's going on?"

"Ryo was wondering about the other driver," Sage replied calmly.

"Oh." Kento's eyes darkened, and the good natured humor left his face. "I hadn't really thought of that bastard. Ran a red light, didn't he?" The others confirmed this.

"We don't know who it is yet," Rowen said. "Cye probably didn't think to ask."

"Oh, we'll think to ask in the morning," Kento promised darkly. His whole stance had changed from sleepy and half awake to tense and angry. The others could hardly blame him, for they all felt the same helpless anger at the unknown driver of the truck that drove Mrs. Mouri's car into a pole. "If that son of a -"

"Kento," Sage warned, and Kento faltered when he realized he was raising his voice.

"If they let that bastard off with anything less than manslaughter, I'm gonna be pissed," Kento finished, his voice softer but no less laced with menace.

"You won't be the only one," Rowen muttered, arms folded across his chest as a frown crossed his face. "It could go either way. Technically, she died as a result of the strokes, not the car accident."

"She never would have had them if she hadn't been hit," Ryo argued.

"Right. If this went to court -"

"Why don't we talk about this in the morning?" Sage suddenly interrupted, effectively cutting Rowen off. He had a feeling Rowen would launch himself into a monologue, and Sage was too tired to discuss it now.

"Sage is right," Ryo agreed, and finished his sentence with a loud yawn. "It's too late for that. Not all of us can keep the hours Rowen can." Rowen gave a small smile at that.

"All right, guys. It's good to see everyone here," Kento said, mimicking Ryo's yawn and stretching. "But I'd rather see your ugly faces in the morning."

Rowen snorted, Ryo laughed and threw his empty plastic pasta dish at Kento; Sage calmly made a rude gesture with his hand, causing the other three to laugh.

"Classy, Sage," Kento chuckled. "I'll bet your mother's proud." Sage gave him a sardonic smile in return.

Rowen shushed them, and Kento waved them off as he headed for his room.

It was quiet for a moment as Rowen, Ryo, and Sage walked into the living room. All three eyed the bed and the couch.

"So who's sleeping where?" Ryo asked. Before the other two could say anything, he added, "I'm not sharing a bed with Rowen."

"Hey!"

"Then take the couch," Sage suggested.

"I don't want the couch."

"I was sleeping in the bed before you guys came here. I'm getting back in the bed."

"I'm _not_ sleeping with you, Rowen."

"Thank the_ Lord_. Sleeping with you wasn't on my agenda, either. Take the floor, pyro boy."

"I – I didn't mean it like_ that_ -"

"Look, he's turning red and stuttering now. Good job, Rowen."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay until you settle in?"

Cye heard his mother's voice come from behind him, and he turned from the now full book shelf to look at her. She kept anxiously tucking her rich brown hair behind her ears, and her eyes darted from the room to Cye's face every half a minute. Her expression was mainly calm, but her eyes held all the worry and reluctance to leave. She was trying so hard to keep it together for him, and Cye felt a swell of love for his mother, coupled with the curious pangs he was getting from knowing that when she left today, he would only get to see her once a month or so, if he was lucky.

Part of him wanted to say yes, mum, stay the entire day and help me unpack. She had been so cheerful on the drive here, chattering away with him on the university he had picked and how exciting it was to have a roommate, although wasn't it a shame that Cye wouldn't have the opportunity to cook as much as he liked to do at home? They arrived at whatever was the equivalent of rush hour for move in day at the university, and it had been hell to find parking, and then find an empty bin to carry up all of Cye's things. His mother had stolen an empty bin from someone else, much to Cye's mortification, but she had only laughed, and told him to "Hurry up, quick; throw your stuff in before they find me with this."

Cye was on the fifth floor of the dorm, and when they arrived, his mother stood in the middle of the room and declared, "Love, this room isn't bigger than your closet."

"Yes, it is. My closet can't fit two beds."

"All right. Cye, your side of the room isn't bigger than your closet."

"I'll manage, mum," Cye had chuckled.

His sister and her husband had even stopped by a few hours earlier. Sayoko had swooped in on Cye with a bear hug, which had been quite uncomfortable since his sister was very pregnant at the time, the cotton material of her soft red shirt stretching to accommodate what would soon become his baby nephew. She had gushed over her little brother gaining college experience, and her and his mother reminisced over Sayoko's first days of college. All four of them ate lunch at the university's student union, and Cye had tried to mentally soak up the image of his family before they all had to leave him.

Now; now, with his mother standing in the middle of the small room, his roommate having yet to make an appearance, Cye wanted to tell her to stay; perhaps she could stay at a hotel and come back tomorrow, so he wouldn't have to say goodbye today. Realistically, however, Cye knew that he would have a harder time saying goodbye to her tomorrow than today. It physically hurt knowing that his mother would leave today, and he would be alone.

"There's only a few bags left; all of my clothes are put away, and I just need to set up the computer and all. I wouldn't want to keep you waiting."

"It's no trouble." Mrs. Mouri stepped forward, eyeing the two or three duffel bags still unopened, filled with odds and ends of Cye's. Cye knew she was just dying to put everything else away for him and maybe even tidy up the room; probably both sides of the room. "It's a little stuffy in here." She stepped over to the two windows, and pushed them open to let air circulate through. They both knew she was stalling, but it was getting late; the sun was starting to set, and she had a drive ahead of her still.

"Thank you, mum," Cye said quietly.

His mother suddenly smiled, eyes suspiciously bright, and cleared her throat. "You're welcome, love." She took in a deep breath. "I should probably get going, then, if I want daylight left to drive in." Cye nodded, and they turned and walked out of the room. His mother hugged him to her as they walked, a slim arm wrapped around his waist, and Cye had no trouble returning it. All too quickly, they were down the elevator, past all the other families leaving their children in the dorms; crying, hugging, and taking pictures.

Cye's heart thudded in his chest as they walked closer to her car. The sun was bright and it reflected off of the windshield, creating a glare that Cye had a hard time looking at. He looked at her profile instead; she had tears in her eyes, and Cye had to look away. He could feel them burning in the back of his. It didn't matter that he fought a long, bloody war in her absence; that he had been on his own in more ways than one for years; right now, the thought of his mother leaving him there made him want to sit down on the curb and cry like a five year old.

They reached the car, and Cye turned and enveloped his mother in a bone crushing hug. She returned it just as tightly, and for a long moment, mother and son silently said goodbye to each other.

"Call me to let me know when you're off for a weekend to come home," his mother said, her voice wobbly and combined with sniffles here and there.

"I will." Cye nodded, and they smiled at each other; smiles that turned into laughter as they wiped at their eyes and poked fun at each other over the tears.

"I would tell you to make me proud," his mother said, her voice now quiet and the tear tacks drying on her cheeks. "But you already have."

The lump ached in Cye's throat, and he fought for self control. It was in his mind, in his throat to tell her he loved her, more than anything; that he would call all the time –

_This was two years ago_ –

And he knew she would leave and he would go back up to the room, feeling miserable and homesick for his mother and for the friends that he cherished so much, but they –

_Am I dreaming?_ –

"Mr. Mouri?"

Cye was suddenly staring at a blank white wall, and next to him was Dr. Tuchiya, looking old and helpless and sad.

"Would you like to see your mother before the coroner comes?"

Cye turned his head to the open doorway next to him; the now silent machines, and the two nurses who were slowly leaving the room. The bed was still occupied, but its occupant was still.

He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to see. But Cye's feet were moving anyway, feeling heavy and sluggish as they slowly made their way towards the bed as if of their own accord. Cye's heart was pounding in his ears; there was his mother, there she was, her eyes half open. Cye stared, briefly mesmerized at the sight of the blue irises that were staring at nothing. He waited for her to blink, and then he waited to see if her chest would rise, if she would sit up –

But there was nothing.

Cye was aware he'd stopped breathing only when his lungs began to burn, and he took in a deep breath –

_I don't want to do this again_ –

"Mother," Cye whispered. He waited…and nothing. The tightness in Cye's lungs returned, and no amount of deep breaths would make it dissipate. It hurt to take in air, and it hurt to look at her face. The pain was so physical as he watched his mother's still form that he found himself moving to the chair beside the bed and sitting down. Her hand was pale and still on the white sheet, the wedding ring she still wore glittering brilliantly under the bright lights. Her hair was lustrous and rich brown in the light; face peaceful and beautiful as it had always been, and Cye could no longer look.

He looked down at his shaking hands, and put them to his face. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, and couldn't bring himself to look; it seemed physically impossible for him to look at her face, to call her name and know she wouldn't answer; that his mother truly wasn't there anymore. He focused on her hand instead, and compulsively reached out to touch it. His mother's hand was still warm.

Cye pulled his hand away, feeling tears well in his eyes and his throat begin to burn. If he had only come _two minutes_ earlier – if he had left ten minutes early, or got the message in time, he would have been here. She wouldn't have had to die alone, surrounded by strangers. It seemed so cruel…such a cruel joke that he had been _minutes_ too late.

Cye was gasping, trying desperately to keep it in, but it seemed absurd to try, and he could feel the tears on his face, choking his throat and wrenching his lungs. His heart felt clenched in a vice; a large portion of his mind so grief-stricken, but a smaller portion angry; angry at God for the worst timing in the world, anger at himself, at his mother for choosing that time to go out and be on the road.

Cye leaned over to the bed, and finally touched his mother's face. For a moment he wasn't sure he would get the words out; they stuck in his throat, threatened to turn into a sob, and finally he said them aloud. "I love you. You've made me proud, too, mum." He got up from the chair, leaned forward, and kissed his mother on her warm, smooth forehead, finally looking at her face again; memorizing her before they took her away. He leaned his forehead against hers and his shoulders shook.

_- Wake up_ –

Cye felt himself fully awaken, and the phone was ringing shrilly on the nightstand. Briefly disoriented, he looked towards the clock, blearily reading six twenty in the morning. The pillow was wet underneath his head, and so were his cheeks. Cye wiped at them as he sat up and reached over for the phone. As he held it to his ear, he laid back down in the bed.

"Hello?"

"Cye?" _Sayoko_. Cye quickly sat up in bed, dread filling the bottom of his stomach. "Is mum all right? Has anything happened?"

Cye told her. As calmly as he could, he began with the accident, hearing his sister gasp on the other line, and listened, miserable, as her reaction went from disbelief to horror and finally, to grief. When he told her their mother was dead, Sayoko began to cry. He could hear Ryuusuke in the background, alarmed at her reaction, but apparently Sayoko left the room, because his voice became more distant.

"Was – was she in pain?" Sayoko managed to say, taking in deep breaths between the words.

Close to tears himself, Cye replied, "I don't know." His voice was shaky, and hearing his sister weep on the other line nearly tore down his resolve to keep from crying with her. He put a hand over his face and clenched his eyes shut. Cye tried soothing Sayoko over the phone, but she was nearly inconsolable when reality really set in. Just when Cye thought he was about to lose the battle with his own grief, he heard the phone being taken away from Sayoko.

"Cye?" Ryuusuke's voice came over the phone, and Cye struggled to compose himself. "How are you?"

_Terrible._ "Tired," was the only reply Cye could come up with. And he was; completely exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed and go to sleep for the next few weeks.

"We'll be over as soon as we can." Ryuusuke's voice was gentle, and for once, Cye was grateful to the man for interjecting a sense of normalcy with his calm demeanor and general questions. Cye nodded wordlessly, and then realized Ryuusuke couldn't hear that. "All right. Thank you."

"Take care, Cye. We'll be a few hours. Are you by yourself?"

"No. My – my friends are with me."

"Good. Have you contacted a mortuary yet?"

"The – I chose the mortuary that mum said did my father's funeral."

"That's fine. When we get there, we'll all go together, all right?"

Cye agreed, and after a brief goodbye, he hung up the phone. Cye put the phone back in its cradle and buried his face in his hands. He was so tired, so sick at heart that he didn't think he'd be able to get out of bed. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he was so afraid he would dream up those memories again that it kept him awake. Between his fingers, he could see the sky outside turn a light gray with the impending sunrise, although most of his room was still dark. Cye hated that reminder that the day was already starting, and he wasn't ready for it.

He couldn't stay in bed. Feeling exhaustion mar his every move, Cye slowly pushed the blankets down, and swung his feet onto the floor. He moved slowly out of the darkened room, and into the even darker hallway. The house was absolutely still, although he knew there were four more people in the house. That thought alone gave him strength enough to move down the hall. When the hallway branched, the living room on the left and the kitchen on the right, he paused at the living room and took in the scene. He felt a smile tug at his mouth at the sight of Rowen on the couch instead of the bed, cocooned in a blanket and feet perched on the arm rest, since the lanky young man was taller than the couch. He had presumably been kicked out of the bed by Sage and Ryo, who were sleeping soundly in the couch bed. Ryo was on his stomach, hugging his pillow, and Sage lay on his back, one arm draped over his stomach. Cye felt himself settle into a more calm frame of mind as he watched his friends sleep.

Cye hadn't stood there for very long when he realized he was starving. Moving into the kitchen as quietly as he could, Cye opened the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. He had no desire whatsoever to cook this early, and instead made himself a bowl of cold cereal. He sat at the counter, eating quietly and blearily watching the sky turn lighter shades of gray. Just at the edge of the horizon, he could see faint slivers of pink and orange, very faint and pale on the underbellies of the clouds.

Cye was almost finished with his cereal when he became aware that someone was standing in the doorway. He looked up, and Sage looked back at him, blonde hair faintly mussed and eyes blurry from sleep, which was unusual for Sage. It made Cye remember that the bearer of Halo probably didn't fall asleep until well after three.

"What are you doing awake?" Cye chided softly.

"I could ask you the same thing," Sage said, and slowly made his way towards the counter. He perched on a seat, sighed, and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Sayoko called."

Sage closed his eyes. "I thought I heard the phone. I'm sure it wasn't pleasant."

"No." Cye swallowed, and pushed the empty cereal bowl away from him. "They'll be here in a few hours. I'm guessing two or three, depending on whether they decide to find a babysitter for the kids or bring them with."

Sage nodded. For the first time in a long time, he loathed his ability to get up with the sun, and longed to go back to sleep. Three hours of sleep was not enough, and his body knew it. Cye and Sage exchanged a glance, presumably thinking the same thing, and they exchanged a small smile.

"That gives you enough time to sleep for another hour or so," Sage suggested. "It's too early to do anything useful at this point."

"I know. And I want to." Cye paused, looking down at the counter rather than Sage's eyes. "I had a hard time sleeping last night."

"I would imagine," Sage said quietly. He watched Cye, pale violet eyes unreadable. "The next few days are going to be terrible. But it will get better, Cye."

Cye looked at Sage's face, and then looked away. "I hope so. I don't know if I can do this much longer."

"You can," Sage said, his voice firm. "I know you can. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Cye blinked, not expecting to hear that from Sage. It was nice to hear, though, and it made Cye feel marginally better He hoped Sage was right. Cye gave the blonde young man a small smile. "Never expected a pep talk from you."

Sage's lips upturned in amusement. "It wasn't a pep talk. Just the truth." Abruptly, he sighed. "Get some more sleep, Cye. You'll need it when Sayoko comes in."

"You, too, then," Cye said, and narrowed his eyes when Sage looked about to protest.

Finally, Sage relented. "That wouldn't be a bad idea."

The two weary early birds departed to their respective beds. Sage stretched out on the mattress, and realized with agitation that Ryo had moved in his sleep and was in the middle of the bed. Sage none too gently shoved Ryo over, to which the raven haired young man mumbled in his sleep and turned on his side. With enough room, Sage pulled the covers over him and closed his eyes against the growing light in the window, determined to catch up on another hour or so of blessed sleep.

Cye curled up in his bed after drawing the blinds tightly to keep the morning light from entering in. He sent up a brief prayer that his dreams would leave him alone, and closed his eyes in an attempt to briefly forget the horrendous turn his life had taken not even a day before.

A/N: Sorry this update took so long. This was a hard chapter to write. I was depressing myself by listening to sad songs while I wrote it, which is mainly what compromises the titles of these chapters, if you haven't noticed already. Thank you all SO much for your wonderful reviews, I love hearing from you all. Let me know what you think, and I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner. I _mean_ it this time :)


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